


If Love is Meant to Heal

by Idk_hi_iguess



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys In Love, Fluff, For a Friend, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Kid Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Self-Indulgent, Soulmate AU, Statues, Teenage Arthur, guys being dudes, i love ma boys, like 18 but technically, thanks rosie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idk_hi_iguess/pseuds/Idk_hi_iguess
Summary: On patrol with Leon and Owaine, Arthur finds an enthralling statue that bares a strange resemblance to the one in a Myth Gaius used to tell him and Morgana about separated soulmates. Surely it couldn't hurt to take its hand. After all, there's no way he could be the fabled other side of the coin.Basically the merthur soulmate au my Friend asked for!





	If Love is Meant to Heal

“Gaius! Gaius!” He ran into the Physician’s chambers, holding his blanket in his curled fist. He’d snuck out of his room, dodging his father’s knights and his Nanny, who’d stormed through the halls yelling his name. “Story?” Jumping into the old man’s arms, he was rewarded by a kiss on the top of the head and a quick scolding for being out of bed. “I promise I will go right back for sleep when I have a story. Please?” Making sure his eyes went extra wide, the man gave in. 

“I’ll tell you them. You pick. Do you want Icarus or Merlin?” 

“Second one. Thank you, Gaius!” The door opened, and a small figure walked into the room, her black hair like a birds nest at the back. 

She sat up next to them, sucking on her thumb. “What is Arthur making you read?” He gave her a shove and he stuck her tongue out at him. “Can I chose?” 

“We’ve already chosen ‘Gana, but tomorrow you can chose I promise.”

“I want the one with the man who looked at the lake.”

He nodded and began to speak, “Everyone has a soulmate, a person they will instantly connect and love for eternity. These are chosen by Aphrodite. Once there was a man born in the Province of Athens who was given one that was not to be born for many many years. He led his years in great sadness and solitude, people shunned him for being unlovable. Athena took pity on him and brought him to Olympus.

“Still he was not happy. Zeus hated that he was ungrateful, that a mortal had come to Olympus and was still unhappy; his rage was known to all. A storm raged for weeks long across all of Greece. Many villages were destroyed and people killed. At the end of it, Athena found the man turned to a statue on a large Island in the North. In her sadness, she made sure he could awake some day when he would not be so lonely.”

Arthur gasped, his eyes as large as saucers, “What happened to the statue?” 

“Well it’s said that when his soulmate, the one Aphrodite had assigned him wrongly, would touch the statue, he would wake up. He would come back and he would awaken.” 

Morgana scoffed, “It’s all rubbish. If there was a statue surely we’d know about it,”

“Morgana, we can not presume to know everything about these Myths, they were created a long time ago and shared through word of mouth, but they usually have basis in fact.”

“Well I don’t think it’s real.” She flounced out, her hair flowing behind her. 

Arthur patted Gaius’ shoulder, “I think it’s real. Who is his soulmate?” 

“No one knows Arthur, but it’s not for you to worry about.”

He bit his lip, “Isn’t he sad?” 

“It’s not for you to worry about, come on, let’s get you to bed before your Father finds out, yeah?” Gaius picked him and took him through the corridors. At some point, he fell asleep on the man’s shoulder. 

~

Years later, he crept through new northern territories gained in the war against Caerleon. Leon and Owiane were behind him and he had his sword drawn. Although a lot of Camelot was free of Bandits, Caerleon’s lands were famous for breeding groups of them. He signaled to his men and they crept away to investigate further. The wood was denser than anything in Camelot so he was wading through seas of bracken and nettles that went through his trousers to sting his legs. In the dirt he found footprints and a scrap of material which spurred him on, following the trail. A singular copper coin rested between two stones and he drew to the conclusion that they must have been in a hurry, a bandit would never leave anything behind, even if it was of less value than gold. 

His fingers brushed against a nettle and he cursed the itching he was going to have to suffer through. Grabbing a Dock leaf he spat on it and rubbed it over the series of bumps on the back of his hand a kept looking. 

He carried on with the trail until he heard a yell from Leon. He met Owaine as they were running back towards the origin of the sound, his sword  Leon was stood at the edge of a clearing looking out onto a sun-bathed patch. “What is it?” 

As he drew closer what Leon had been looking at became obvious, a beautiful marble statue half covered in ivy and vines, a cream coloured mottled stone, the sunlight glinting off its smooth skin. Only the hand looked worn, shiny from use contact. It depicted one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen. Its otherworldly allure and elegance making his stomach drop to the floor. The hair was wonderful, wavy, curling at it reached the nape of his neck. Although his face was sad and wistful, it was chiseled so perfectly it looked as if it had been made yesterday. The eyes seemed to bore into his soul, looking directly at him. 

The body was another thing, everything so carefully sculpted it looked as if it had been crafted by the Gods. Dimly he remembered the story Morgana had begged Gaius to repeat over and over: Medusa. 

Maybe this man was a victim of hers , he thought with a chuckle. Oh how he missed being young and curling into Gaius’ lap as he told them stories about Gods and deities and far off lands, His old favourites were always the stories of Achilles and Troy. Morgana had loved those stories for Helen of Troy. 

“What do you think it’s doing here?” Owaine whispered. 

As if the question triggered something in him, he remembered another story Gaius used to tell him, the one he always clamoured for as Morgana would roll her eyes and ask for Medusa or Narcissus. How funny it was to find a statue in the woods in the woods that happened to be very similar to the one from his favourite myth. Looking at the outstretched hand, he half wondered…

But no that would be stupid. He could almost picture Morgana laughing at him. 

Carefully they picked their way forward, keeping together in a tight group. On the pedestal was an inscription, ‘One half of a coin,’ The statues arm was outstretched and Arthur almost felt himself try to take it. “I think I know.” Leon turned to him in confusion, “Gaius used to tell me this Myth, of a man who was cursed by Zeus, the Greek god, to remain a statue forever until his soulmate touched him. He was given a soulmate that would not be born for hundreds of years by Aphrodite.”

“And you think that this is him,” Leon sounded disbelieving. 

“I don’t know, do you have any better ideas? Why else would the inscription say ‘one half of a coin’ if he wasn’t missing something?”

“Maybe this was made by someone who’d heard the myth?” Owaine suggested, looking uneasily at its headband that had stone cut to look like small jewels in it. 

“I don’t know. I just loved that story and I just, uh, feel connected to it, somehow.” Owaine gave him a weird look then exchanged one with Leon. Clearly they thought he was insane. 

“Well why don’t we touch it. There’s nothing to lose and it’s not like we’ll be his soulmate,” Leon scoffed, reaching out to grab the statue by the hand. 

He let Owaine go next, and he unsure as to why he was so worked up about this. It was silly myth, like Morgana and Leon said. With a deep breath he tried to hide, he took its hand, looking up at the perfect marble face of the man. The marble was smooth and incredibly detailed, and weirdly warm. He thought he could almost feel a pulse beneath the stone. There was a flash of light and series of images crossed his mind in quick succession. A woman, standing upon marble steps, her upper half in beautiful battle armor, but below her chest plate was a beautiful white fabric that seemed nearly unreal. As he reached out to touched her, she was replaced by a man with ruddy cheeks, wearing a dark blue cloak who was sneering at him. A horrible guilt settled in his stomach. Then he was walking through isles of scrolls, warm light tickling his skin. As quickly as whiplash, he felt the warmth change to harsh rainfall that stripped his flesh from his body in agonizing strips. As quickly as it had all happened, he was back, looking at the incredible statue, still holding onto its hand. Before he could register what was happening, a man fell into his arms from the pedestal. 

Gasps from around him brought him back to life, holding the man safe and pulling him down onto the level with the others, folding his cloak-like shroud over him to keep him decent. His friends looked at him with eyes the size of saucers. “There’s no way.” Owaine breathed, and Leon seemed still speechless.  

He couldn’t stop staring at the man in his arms, his almost red lips drawing his eyes. The man was nestled into his collar bone, the hair Arthur had been so infatuated with tickling his chin. “We have to get him back to camp.” He left with little explanation and walked his way back into the wood, following the path he’d taken earlier. Behind him he could hear Leon and Owaine crashing through the undergrowth. 

The sight of the horse alerted him that they’d reached the camp, and he laid the man down on his bedroll, propping his sleeping form up using his bag. “Should I cook something? We’ve got the chicken I killed earlier?” Leon suggested, and Arthur nodded. Owaine said something about looking for firewood and Leon went down to the stream to wash the vegetables and pluck the chicken. 

He was alone with the man. Subconsciously, he stroked his face with his fingers, delicately tracing the lines of his cheekbones. Even in the fading light he could make out freckles dusting his face and a small scar on his chin, thin and white against the light tan. At his touch, his eyes began to flicker open and Arthur held his breath. 

Big, brilliant green eyes looked up at him through thick dark lashes. They were barely open, and as he came to, they widened in shock. “Hello,” Arthur could think of nothing else to say, and he tried to make himself as approachable as possible, smiling gently. “You’re awake.” He nodded as if he barely believed it himself. “I’m Arthur. I found your statue.” As he said this, he noticed the man shivering in the cold evening air and quickly draped his cloak around his shoulders and poking the low fire. The man coughed as he opened his mouth to speak, choking on his words. Arthur immediately handed him a water skin and gently brought it to his lips. He still looked weak and exhausted, barely able to lift his head. “In a minute my friends will make food, Leon is just washing the vegetables.” 

“I-I,” Arthur smiled encouragingly, “I’m Merlin.” 


End file.
